Chapter 4: The Slow Burn

Days passed, and Dexter Volkov couldn’t stop thinking about Hina Jin Lee. Her defiance replayed in his mind like a song on repeat. Her sharp eyes, her unwavering stance, and, most of all, her refusal to submit. He was a man accustomed to power, to control. Men feared him. Women adored him—or at least, they pretended to. But Hina was different. She didn’t bow, didn’t pretend. She stared straight into the storm of his presence and didn’t flinch.

His days were filled with business meetings, clandestine deals, and ruthless decisions, but somehow, his mind always circled back to her. The moment her voice echoed in his thoughts—"I want the truth"—he felt something shift in him.

For a man who had built an empire on deception, the truth was the one thing he’d never learned to offer freely.

Hina Jin Lee tried to focus on her work at the art museum. Her hands moved methodically, cataloging new arrivals for the gallery’s upcoming exhibit. The cool air of the museum smelled faintly of varnish and fresh paper, and the soft echoes of her footsteps filled the grand, open space. But her mind was elsewhere.

Dexter Volkov.

The man was infuriating, overbearing, and far too self-assured for her liking. Yet, somehow, he lingered in her thoughts like the faint scent of cologne after someone leaves a room. He’s dangerous, she reminded herself. Men like him take and take until there’s nothing left of you.

Her phone buzzed on the table, dragging her back to reality. She wiped her hands on her apron and glanced at the screen. A message notification lit up her phone.

Dexter: Dinner. Tomorrow night. I’ll pick you up at 8.

Her fingers hovered over the keyboaRd, her heart doing a traitorous little flip in her chest. He didn’t even ask. He told. She bit her bottom lip, debating whether to ignore him entirely or remind him that she wasn’t one of his subordinates. But she knew better than to play games with a man like Dexter.

Her fingers moved on their own.

Hina: This isn’t a request, is it?

The reply came seconds later.

Dexter: No.

Her lips twitched into an involuntary smile before she could stop herself. Arrogant man.

The Next Evening

Hina glanced at the clock. 7:45 PM. Fifteen minutes. Her nerves buzzed with an uncomfortable energy she hadn’t felt in a long time. She stood before her mirror, adjusting the simple black dress she’d chosen. It wasn’t flashy, but it hugged her figure perfectly. Classy. Elegant. Unreadable.

Her reflection stared back at her with raised brows. You’re overthinking it, Hina.

She didn’t want to admit it, but there was a small part of her that wondered what Dexter would think. Not that she cared—at least, that’s what she told herself.

The low rumble of an engine echoed from outside. Her breath caught. He’s early.

She peeked out the window, and there it was—a sleek, obsidian-black Mercedes Benz idling by the curb. The headlights cut through the dim evening haze like two sharp eyes watching her. Her phone buzzed.

Dexter: I’m here.

Her pulse quickened, and she pressed a hand to her chest to steady it. Why does he have this effect on me? She grabbed her coat and bag, locking her door behind her.

The air outside was cool, and her breath puffed in small clouds. As she approached the car, Leonid, Dexter’s ever-loyal right-hand man, stepped out. Dressed in a sharp black suit, he opened the back door for her, his eyes scanning the street like a hawk.

"Ms. Lee," Leonid greeted, his deep voice a rumble of authority.

"Thank you," she said, stepping inside.

The leather seats were smooth, and the faint scent of leather and cedarwood lingered in the air. Dexter sat across from her, one arm draped casually along the back of the seat. His navy suit was tailored to perfection, every thread in its place. His gaze swept over her, lingering for a moment longer than necessary.

"You’re early," Hina remarked, buckling her seatbelt.

"I don’t wait," Dexter replied, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

The car pulled away from the curb, the hum of the engine low and steady. Neither of them spoke at first. She watched the streetlights blur past, her fingers resting in her lap. She could feel his eyes on her, studying her like a puzzle he was determined to solve.

"Where are we going?" she asked, breaking the silence.

"Somewhere quiet," he replied cryptically.

She shot him a glance. "Vague answers aren't cute, Dexter."

His smirk widened. "Patience, solnishko."

Her brow lifted. "What did you call me?"

"Solnishko," he repeated smoothly, his voice like velvet. "It means 'little sun' in Russian."

Her face warmed, and she glanced back at the window to avoid his gaze. She wasn’t about to let him see the effect his words had on her.

The Restaurant

The car stopped in front of an upscale, private restaurant tucked away on a quiet street. The building’s exterior was sleek, modern, and unassuming, but the sharp-dressed valet gave away its exclusivity. Dexter stepped out first, then held his hand out for Hina. She hesitated for only a moment before placing her hand in his.

The warmth of his palm against hers sent a jolt through her, but she masked it with a cool expression. He probably knows what he’s doing. Men like him always do.

Inside, the restaurant was dimly lit with soft ambient lighting. The air smelled of freshly baked bread, roasted garlic, and wine. Staff greeted Dexter with immediate deference, leading them to a private dining area in the back. No other patrons in sight. Just the two of them.

"Do you always rent out entire restaurants just to eat dinner?" Hina asked, settling into the leather booth.

"Privacy is expensive," Dexter replied, removing his suit jacket and draping it over the back of his chair. He rolled up his sleeves, revealing strong forearms and tattoos that peeked out just beneath the cuff.

She glanced at the ink, curious but unwilling to ask. Instead, she leaned back in her chair. "Privacy or control?"

He tilted his head, his eyes narrowing with amusement. "Control is privacy, solnishko."

Their gazes locked, and for a moment, neither of them spoke. A waiter arrived, placing two menus before them. Hina flipped hers open, scanning the options, but she could still feel his eyes on her.

"Do you always look at people like that?" she asked, not bothering to glance up.

"Only the ones I’m interested in," he replied without hesitation.

Her eyes lifted from the menu, her gaze sharp. "And I’m supposed to be flattered?"

"Flattery isn’t my goal," he replied, his voice low and smooth. "Understanding is."

Her eyes flickered with something between irritation and intrigue. "You won’t figure me out, Dexter."

His smirk returned, slow and dangerous. "I already am."

Later That Night

Their conversation ebbed and flowed like a slow dance. They spoke of art, of culture, of places they’d seen. Hina expected him to brag, but instead, Dexter listened as she spoke about her childhood in Seoul and her dream of becoming an art curator. He asked questions—real ones—not just surface-level pleasantries.

But there was a moment, a shift in the air, when she asked, "Why do you really want to see me, Dexter?"

The warmth in his gaze dimmed just a little, like clouds covering the sun. "Do you want the truth or something that sounds good?"

Her eyes locked onto his, unflinching. "I want the truth."

He leaned forward, his gaze turning sharp as glass. "The truth, solnishko, is that I don’t know."

Her breath hitched, not expecting his honesty.

"All I know," he continued, his voice low and deliberate, "is that you make me forget about everything else. The business. The danger. Everything."

Silence stretched between them. This time, it was Hina who was left unsure. She reached for her glass of wine, her hands steady even as her heart wavered.

“Careful, Volkov,” she said softly, her eyes meeting his once more. “You might start to like it.”

His grin was slow, wicked, and knowing. “I already do.”

Follow for more chapters (I'm not the type to do this daily ngl... But stay up to date and follow my discord (Itz_kiraa) maybe I can get your thoughts on what I should put next! But I ain't much of a writer soo..... 500 words got me kinda trembling

...I told myself this was gonna.... Make me erm......

...Get busy ^^...

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